Paragraph one
It was. Or might have been.
Beautiful, without being extraordinary. Snowy.
Technical but with soul. Magnifying and secretive.
Perfectionist with destroying imperfections. Those trees should have never moved.
Mature. Flirting with the edge of boredom. Soft acid.
Speechless with too many words. Signifier with unnecessary signified. Sounds that should not mean.
Pointless, a clump of visual journeys awaiting. Patiently, shifting perspectives.
Simple but too hard when over thought. Lullaby making love with emotions.
Here and now but too much there. Polite but too late.
And yet no contradiction.
Paragraph two
With loudspeaker acting for award. Motionless, yet catching the attention. Resilient buggers, those habits, are they not?
Without a story – for sure – but still a conversation. With according dialogues. Keyboard vocabulary.
Who can choreograph the raindrops? Where is directing in pushing the buttons? What design is water? Controlled infinity.
What then? Unlike the before and yet: the wall with big number four stays untouched. Again.
So nothing? And yet theater. Traditionally untraditional. Shared in reluctant lines.
Paragraph three
It was a visual performance, thoughtfully painted in every detail. Yes, there were no actors and only things but the coldness of the metal was diminished with perfectionism. And exactly that was the biggest success and obstacle of the performance: in creating a detailed world that allows anyone to choose a path of emotional journey one likes, it made one´s eye painfully aware of technical imperfections, like trembling trees on a moving platform or disfigured reflection on a screen. Was it theater then? Why not? There was performing, contacts and conversations. And though they might have been acted by unexpected mediums – water and light, sound and screens - , it was, after all traditional theater in a sense that border between the stage and audience stayed there even in the end when it was allowed to see the machinery from the sides. Just like this paragraph is letting the reader to peek the experience, without really sharing it. So, for the real thing, go now to the beginning. Confused? How do you think I felt?
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